


Here Is That Rainbow I've Been Praying for

by ZoS



Series: Her Andrea-verse [2]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Changing POVs, Completed, Conflict, Conflict Resolution, Established Relationship, F/F, Family, Gen, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Other, Romance, Vignettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-04 12:31:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17898479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoS/pseuds/ZoS
Summary: Andy is now stable enough to receive visitors at the hospital, which means that Miranda has to endure yet another encounter with the Sachs parents.Accompanying piece toHer Andrea.





	1. MIRANDA

**Author's Note:**

> This is not really a sequel, but a little part I had in my head to fill in the gap between the last chapter and the epilogue. It's just a little series of different points in one day told from different POVs.
> 
> Originally, my plan was to have Andy's parents come visit straight after the accident and stay at the townhouse, causing more tension and conflict, but eventually it didn't fit well with the pace and overall telling of the story. So here it is now at, in my opinion, a more appropriate setting.
> 
> There might be another little installation to what is apparently becoming a "universe," or whatever it's called (forgive me for not being fluent in the lingo), so stay tuned.
> 
> *Title is taken from the song _I Can See Clearly Now_ by Johnny Nash.

Cross the lobby to the elevators. Press the button for the 11th floor. Exit at the Neurology Department. Turn left toward the large doors. Proceed down the hall to the private rooms. Rinse and repeat. What had Miranda once told herself about this place becoming her second home?

Reaching the all-too-familiar door, Miranda stopped with her hand on the handle at the sound of muffled voices inside.

"Shut. _Up_ ," a male voice said. "You met Valentino? _The_ Valentino?"

"Yup," a female voice responded--Andrea. Miranda wouldn't concern herself with any other person that consciously used the word "yup."

"You bitch! Tell me everything. What was he like?"

"Lots of fake tan," Andrea replied after a brief silence. Miranda rolled her eyes and took her cue, opening the door and stepping inside.

"There she is," Andrea announced with a smile from her bed.

"Hello," Miranda drawled, suspiciously eyeing the man on the other side of the bed. He looked incredibly young, but was wearing nurse's scrubs, though this was Miranda's first encounter with him. Voicing her thoughts, she said, "I haven't seen you before."

He opened his mouth to answer, but Andrea interrupted, doing the job for him, "This is Ethan. He's a nurse here."

Miranda had gathered that much from the outfit, but it didn't explain what he was doing in Andrea's room. "What's wrong?" she asked, her eyes flickering between the two as she approached the bed.

"Oh, no, nothing," the nurse--Ethan--was quick to reassure, probably detecting the hint of panic on her face. "I'm not even assigned to this one's case. Just wanted to hear _all the fashion gossip_ ," he sing-songed, wiggling his eyebrows at Andrea, who chuckled good-naturedly. To Miranda, he added, "By the way, Ms. Priestly? _Huge_ fan."

"Hmm," was Miranda's response as she deposited her hangbag and paper bag on Andrea's bedside table. That clued Ethan right in.

"Right." He clasped his hands together. "I should probably get back to my actual patients; make sure no one's dying." Andrea snorted while Miranda frowned at him, which was all the encouragement he needed to leave the room and close the door behind him.

"He's pretty great," Andrea commented while Miranda squeezed hand sanitizer onto her palm (she'd brought her own because the pink gel in the hospital's dispenser looked far from sanitary) and rubbed her hands together.

"I'm sure he is."

"Did you bring food?" Andrea asked, eyeing the brown bag on the nightstand. Her tongue sneaked out to run across her lips, which made Miranda hopeful. If her appetite was making a comeback...

"I did." She nodded, setting Andrea's tray before her and helping her sit upright before opening the bag. One by one, she extracted containers and placed them on the tray.

"Did you ask them to make that mac and cheese truffle thing?" Andrea asked while scanning the assortment of food before her.

Miranda barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes again, but answered nonetheless, "My assistant did." She picked up the box in question and removed the lid, then took a fork out of the bag and handed the items to Andrea.

"Great," Andrea muttered joyfully and dove right in.

Miranda kept her eyes on her as she sat down in her chair. Cautiously, she said, "I see you're getting your appetite back."

"Mmm," Andrea hummed in confirmation around a mouthful. "I skipped break--" she began to add until she caught herself and finished guiltily, "--fast."

Miranda sighed, pursed her lips, and glared. "Andrea."

"I was too nauseous in the morning," Andrea explained defensively.

Sighing again (Miranda had realized she'd been doing it a lot recently), Miranda reached for another box and opened it. Not exactly ideal conditions for a meal, but it was still _Smith & Wollensky_ and Andrea was eating so that was the most important thing. "I can't leave you alone for a second," she murmured.

"Thanks, Mom," Andrea said in a deceptively light tone, giving her a deceptively sweet smile. Her tone was still light and casual when she spoke next, but now she wasn't looking at Miranda. "Speaking of moms..."

And Miranda felt the urge to sigh again, but only did it internally this time because this was thin ice they were now treading on. "They landed half an hour ago. My driver is bringing them here as we speak."

Andrea nodded and finally glanced sideways at her. Now she was the one who sounded cautious, though she was clearly trying to mask her words as playful. "So I bet you're eager to finish your lunch as soon as possible and go back to _Runway_."

Miranda gave her another glare, this one more scalding. "I'm here, aren't I?" she said in a clipped tone.

"Sure," Andrea replied, keeping her voice light, before biting down on a forkful. After swallowing, she said, "And I'm sure your working later tonight has nothing to do with my parents coming."

Miranda huffed. "What a notion," she muttered, but Andrea gave her a knowing look. She really did know her too well, though it really didn't take a genius to see that Miranda was avoiding yet another unpleasant meeting with the in-laws. Straightening in her seat, she put her container back on the tray, no longer hungry, and set to defending herself. "I paid for their flight, didn't I? I sent them a driver. I even offered to let them stay at our house. _They_ refused."

"Well." Andrea shrugged, obviously at a loss for counter points. "It's probably best. I mean, you and them at the same house?"

"Exactly," Miranda agreed.

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, with Miranda pretending to work while watching Andrea eat and Andrea sending her occasional looks that said, "Stop watching me eat." When she was done, she placed a half-empty container on the tray and pushed it away from her body. Putting her phone aside, Miranda asked, "Ready to walk?"

"Now?" Andrea frowned apprehensively.

"Before you get too tired."

"You mean before my parents get here."

"Andrea..." Miranda pinched the bridge of her nose, growing exasperated.

"Fine, yeah, I'm ready," Andrea gave up, letting her off the hook surprisingly easily. Maybe she was just as unsettled about the upcoming visit. "Help me?"

Rising from her seat, Miranda moved the tray aside and, mindful of the arm elevated by a sling, wrapped her arms around Andrea's body and helped her to her feet. The first few times they'd done it, Andrea had been wobbly at best; unable to hold herself up at worst. Now she was getting more energy, eating better, and Miranda hardly dared to hope that things were looking up.

Supporting Andrea's back while Andrea wheeled her IV stand with her good hand, they made their slow way through the halls, taking frequent breaks when Andrea got too nauseous or tired. Today, though, they nearly completed their round before Andrea leaned against the nurses station desk, hunched over and panting.

"Nausea?" Miranda inquired, trying not to get too freaked out. The doctor and nurses _had_ informed her that Andrea would be experiencing some of that in the aftermath of her injury and surgeries, along with a considerable amount of fatigue. Her hand, however, involuntarily tightened its hold on Andrea's waist.

Andrea merely nodded while trying to take deep breaths so Miranda caught the nearest nurse's gaze and ordered, "Give her something for the nausea."

"Right away, Ms. Priestly," the nurse said at once and stood up. Turning to Andrea, she asked, "Do you want to wait in bed?"

"Does it look like she can make it to the bed?" Miranda enunciated and was just about to demand she be wheeled to her room when Andrea spoke up.

"No, it's fine." She held up a hand, slowly straightening her posture. "It's fine. I can make it."

"Andrea," Miranda tried to argue.

"It's okay. Really."

"I'll be right there, then." The nurse nodded and walked away. So, securing her hold on Andrea--and receiving a small but grateful smile in response--Miranda made herself helpful. Slowly, they made their way back to Andrea's room, where she helped Andrea onto the bed and tucked her in.

"God, I hate this," Andrea murmured before taking another deep breath.

"You're doing better," Miranda said neutrally, not sure which one of them she was trying to convince. But after all, Andrea was out of the ICU; she was eating and walking and strong enough to handle her parents.

And as if summoned like some demonic entity, the door then opened, revealing not the nurse with Andrea's medication, but Mr. and Mrs. Sachs in all their Midwestern glory.

 _Here we go,_ Miranda thought and braced herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, your feedback means a great deal to me so please let me know what you think.


	2. RICHARD

"Kate, it's this way."

"No, I think it's the next turn. There's nothing here."

Richard barely kept himself from sighing in his wife's face. But his voice was still strained when he argued, "But the nurse told us it's here. Come on."

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders and steering her in the right direction, he could feel the tension her body was giving off in waves. He couldn't blame her. Days of worry and helplessness and sleepless nights had finally culminated in the most luxurious (and most restless) flight they had ever taken and probably ever would take, and now they were walking through the halls of a hospital they'd never had a reason to visit before.

If Richard had had an inkling all those months ago, when he'd said goodbye to his daughter under the Christmas tree and hugged her close, that the next time they met, she'd be in a hospital bed, he would have never let go.

But of course Andy was no longer a kid and accidents happened and no one could predict the future, and now the child he had raised and loved was recovering from two brain surgeries and who knew what kinds of psychological ramifications. Richard didn't, because his daughter--ever careful not to worry her parents--was adamant on keeping them as far out of the picture as she possibly could.

And Miranda... well, Miranda was Miranda. A woman of few words and fewer reassurances.

They had stayed out of the picture, he and Kate, at Miranda's wishes--for once listening to her because for once she'd made sense. Even through their panic and need to protect and be close, they'd been able to see that even from Andy's bedside, they could only be so helpful. And one thing they could agree with Miranda on was that Andy's best interest came first.

But now Andy was stable and Richard and Kate were coming back into the picture and taking residence right there inside the frame because Andy--no matter how old she was and what kind of life she built for herself--was still the baby whose diapers Richard had changed and whose first word had been "Dada." She'd been hurt and Richard could only stay away for so long.

In fact, the more he thought about it, the more urgent the need to see his baby and hold her in his arms again became. He couldn't be sure what Kate was feeling at that moment, but they seemed to be on the same page if the growing pace of her steps as they neared the private rooms section was any indication.

"Oh, there, that's her room, Richard!" she exclaimed breathlessly. "Number 10, didn't Miranda say?"

"Okay, honey, calm down. Take it easy," he said with the single remaining sane part of his brain because the last thing they needed was for Andy to think that she'd been right about needing to keep them calm. He could rein his emotions in if it benefited his daughter, and if the need arose, he'd keep his wife in check as well.

As it was, there was no restraining Kate as she practically flew into the room after swiging the door open (without so much as checking that the room did indeed belong to Andy) and flung herself onto the body on the bed, crying, "Oh, my god. Oh, my god, my baby. My baby."

Thankfully, it was their daughter and not some poor stranger in his wife's embrace, reaching out with an arm that was hooked to an IV to hug her back.

"Careful," Richard heard from the other side of the bed, coming out in a soft but stern voice, causing his eyes to land on his daughter's... Miranda.

He couldn't spot any immediate differences from the last time he'd seen her--still sharp and regal with an unreadable face--but on a closer inspection, he could just make out a foreign look in her eyes as she watched his wife and daughter and pursed her lips. But not necessarily in displeasure, as he'd come to associate the look with her--or, well, not only displeasure. She looked just as tense as him and Kate, almost as if she was physically forcing herself to stay where she was and not leap to the bed and disentangle Kate from the bruised body beneath her. She looked, Richard realized, genuinely concerned.

"Richard." Her voice startled him, making him realize he'd been staring, and she courteously nodded at him and then his wife. "Kate. Lovely to see you again."

"You, too," Richard gave the customary response, but Kate merely waved absentmindedly, caught up in holding Andy and, Richard knew, ignoring Miranda's presence altogether. She hadn't been happy about sharing their time with their daughter with Miranda as well, but Richard had long figured out that if he wanted to stay in Andy's life, Miranda Priestly was part of the package deal.

It was far from ideal, but so far everybody had survived unscathed. Well, almost unscathed, he thought with a cringe as he took a look at the frail body on the bed and his heart promptly clenched in his chest.

"Mom," Andy laughed and it sounded weak and forced. She was patting Kate's shoulder awkwardly.

"My baby," Kate repeated in a broken whisper that was muffled by Andy's hair and Richard, once again, found himself struggling not to sigh because now he could see very clearly why they hadn't been welcomed before.

"Mom, my arm," Andy whimpered and now Miranda did take a step toward the bed, but Kate finally pulled back. Just in time, too, because by the look on Miranda's face, there was no telling what she might have done.

Now Richard could see that the arm in question was bandaged and held up by a sling, just as Miranda had described on the phone. Andy's face had also come more fully into view and it was pale and sunken. There was a bandage above her left eyebrow. He could just make out the beginning of the other bandage on the side of her head, which Kate was still hiding, unable to move more than an inch away, it seemed. He could understand her--he really could--and he absolutely empathized, but at the moment, Andy looked truly miserable, taking short breaths that made her chest rise and fall irregularly.

"Honey, is this a bad time?" he said his first words to her, feeling as though a brick was sitting on his chest. He prayed for her to respond in the negative, to insist they stay, but if she needed to rest... well, her needs at the moment came first.

He was overcome with unexpected but immense relief when she answered, "No, no, I'm just a little nauseous. I'm really happy to see you guys, though," she added, looking up at Kate with a wobbly smile. Feeling useless, Richard felt for the leg closest to him underneath the blanket and squeezed the ankle.

"The nurse should have been here with her medication by now," Miranda said in a tight voice, sounding just as much out of her depth, and cast a glance toward the door. Her eyes looked as though they were about to shoot laser beams at the first person to walk through it. They also looked a little tired, Richard now noticed; slightly red-rimmed above bags that make-up could only do so much to hide. She almost looked her age.

"Miranda, it's fine," Andy insisted. "She went to get it. She'll be here soon."

"'Soon' is not good enough," Miranda replied firmly. "I'm going to see what's taking so long."

"Miranda," Andy said again, stopping her when she was already rounding the bed. She seemed as eager to leave as Richard was to stay. His eyes wandered back and forth between their faces, watching what appeared to be a silent interaction as Miranda came closer to Andy's side.

"Shouldn't you get back to work?" Andy gave Miranda a knowing look and Richard wondered what that was all about. Then again, at hearing his daughter's words, he did realize that this was the middle of the day and Miranda was spending it in a hospital room. Now, admittedly, he didn't know much about the woman--had never really delved deep into her character, no, thanks--but he knew this much: work was sacred. Her magazine was sacred.

Yet here she was. Worried about relieving Andy's suffering. Spending day and night at her bedside since Andy had landed in this place, when he and Kate hadn't been able to.

Now he could see that look in her eyes again--that look that had only minutes previously looked unfamiliar--and now he could see that it went far beyond concern and fatigue.

Andy wasn't a hobby or an infatuation. She wasn't a midlife crisis and she wasn't someone Miranda would toss aside when she'd had enough. She'd had every opportunity to do so recently; it would have been so easy for her to walk away--and people would have understood, would have sympathized with her lack of courage and stamina. Hell, Richard--though finally given a just reason to hate her for the rest of his days--would have understood, not actually expecting Miranda Priestly to concern herself with this kind of disturbance to her perfect life.

But Miranda was in it for the long haul, and though he'd had his many doubts before, now he was sure. No matter what life with Andy threw her way, she would stay, for better or for worse. _In sickness and in health,_ Richard thought incredulously. It _was_ incredulous, but it also was clear as day that Miranda Priestly truly loved and cherished his daughter.

He felt slightly ashamed for having taken so long to be convinced; for having needed the concrete proof and for such a tragedy to have occured for him to receive it. But, nevertheless, this was it: the proof that Miranda, if nobody else, was good enough for Andy.

Which was why, when he came back from his musings just at the end of a conversation, he wasn't so perturbed to see her lean down and kiss Andy's lips. Kate, on the other hand, tensed visibly at his side, thankfully no longer hogging Andy's personal space during this intimate moment.

Not so thankfully, now Richard could see a big bandage covering a good portion of the side of her head and everything else was momentarily forgotten as the unfathomable notion that his daughter's head had been open on a table and operated on returned to him. He shuddered.

"I'll be back tonight," Miranda said before rounding the bed to their side, grabbing her bag from the bedside table, and turning back to them. "Richard, Kate," she repeated, but didn't add anything besides another nod.

Kate, once again, didn't respond, leaning back down and stroking Andy's cheek while Andy tried to smile and not look unenthusiastic about being touched. Richard was left to try and find the right words to say goodbye, because suddenly a cold "Miranda" didn't seem to suffice. What did one say to the person who was selflessly nursing their daughter back to health? "Have a good day at work?" "Thank you for doing all the hard work, we'll take it from here?" When he'd finally decided on a simple "Goodbye," Miranda was already out the door.

"We were so worried about you, sweetie" Kate whispered and Richard closed his eyes. The last thing they needed right now was for Andy to stress about worrying them. "God, I missed you so much."

Richard chose the more composed course of action, squeezing Andy's ankle again and giving her a warm smile. "How are you doing, honey? Besides the nausea?"

"Okay, I think," Andy answered and even managed her own smile. "They're saying I'm getting better, and I definitely feel better than I did after the surgeries."

"Are you in pain?" he inquired.

"Not really. Mostly just tired."

"You should try to sleep," Kate said the most reasonable thing she had since entering the room and Richard wholeheartedly agreed. Andy might be saying that she was feeling better--and in comparison to her state at the beginning of this mess, he guessed, she was probably telling the truth--but she still looked a far cry from his Andy with the wide smile and bright eyes. She looked like she could use a whole year's supply of sleep, and in all honesty, so could Richard.

"Are you guys staying?" she asked as Kate finally released her and took a seat on a chair by the bed.

"We're here for as long as you'll have us," Kate replied softly and stroked her cheek again. Andy, to Richard's relief, looked grateful. Well, on that note--

"I think I'll run out and get us some coffee then," he announced, letting go of Andy's leg. "I saw a machine outside. Do you want anything, sweetheart?"

"No, I'm good, thanks."

"Alright." He nodded. "Kate, one sugar?"

"Yes, honey," she replied, but wasn't paying much mind to him besides that. She seemed intent of running her eyes all over the exposed parts of their daughter's body, as if looking for any unattended to damages, and Richard took his cue to leave.

Outside, he took a deep breath and leaned against the wall. Admittedly, Andy didn't look as bad as he'd imagined she would, but that didn't change the fact that she was still bruised, still suffering, still had undergone brain surgeries. Still had a long road of recovery ahead of her. He wasn't sure what his role would be and to what extent he and Kate would be allowed to be part of the process, but this was a good start. Here and now, he had Andy by his side.

"...and when she needs something, she will get it--not later, not in a moment; right away. Is that clear or do I need to talk to Mr. Fields again?"

Turning at the sound of murmuring, Richard found the head of white hair he only associated with one person and, almost involuntarily, found himself approaching Miranda and the nurse she seemed to be threatening, straining to hear the conversation.

"...but I will be back tonight and I expect to find her treatment has improved considerably." Miranda said in the soft voice that, to this day, still scared even him. "Where is Sheila?"

"She's not on call tonight," the nurse replied politely, looking like she herself was about to throw up in the face of Miranda's wrath. Justifiably so, because Miranda's voice was even more deadly when she spoke up again.

"Well, she is now. Call her and get her here. I don't want anybody else touching Andrea until I say so; she's the only one here capable of doing her job."

"But, um--" the nurse started, then stopped and pressed her lips together and Richard was glad he couldn't see Miranda's face at that moment. Gulping, she said, "I'll call her right away, Ms. Priestly."

Apparently satisfied, Miranda turned around, coming face to face with Richard. He could see her nostrils flare and her lips purse for the briefest of seconds before she regained control of her face and asked tightly, "Is Andrea alright?"

"Oh, yes, yes, she's fine," he reassured her. "I was just getting some coffee."

"Well, don't waste your time. The coffee here tastes like death," Miranda said flatly and turned her back to him.

Her heels clacked loudly against the marble floor as she started making her way toward the large doors at the end of the corridor and, to Richard's own surprise, he heard his voice calling after her, "Miranda?"

She didn't look as surprised when she turned back, but she did raise an imperious eyebrow and Richard was at a loss for words. Scratching the back of his head, he took a few tentative steps toward her and said, "I see you're ruling the staff here with an iron fist." He tried for a joking tone, but he suspected it came out about as awkward as he felt. Affirming his suspicion, Miranda's eyebrow climbed higher.

 _Get a grip on yourself,_ he told himself. They were both reasonable adults, who may have had their fair share of differences in the past, but now it all seemed very insignificant. He assumed it took an awful event like this to put things in perspective and show a person what really mattered in life. If Andy had not survived this, it wouldn't have mattered who she shared her life with.

With an exhale, he began, "Listen, I... I wanted to thank you." In response, Miranda's other eyebrow rose, but she said nothing. "For the flight and the driver and putting us in a hotel. It's very generous of you and we want you to know that it's not taken for granted." He took a breath and continued, "And I wanted to thank you for taking care of Andy this whole time, while we couldn't. I can't imagine how hard it must have been--"

"You thought I would give up on her," Miranda stated matter-of-factly.

"No, of course not," he rushed to dismiss, trying not to stumble over his words. Maybe too quickly. "No, no, it's nothing like that. It's just that I know you're a busy woman and--"

"And you thought I would put my job before her," she cut him off again, her lips pinching. Definitely in displeasure.

Finally, Richard sighed. She wasn't entirely wrong. He didn't like her, didn't trust her, and didn't think she'd be able or even willing to step up and be there for his daughter the way she deserved. Or, at least, he hadn't. Until now.

"I was wrong," he admitted quietly. "You... I don't know what we would have done if-- I mean, Christ, this is a parent's worst nightmare, you know? Well, I mean, of course you know--you're a parent." He was mentally banging his head against a wall, unable to stop rambling. Why couldn't he find the right words to tell Miranda--

"What I'm trying to say is..." He took a deep breath when met with her penetrating gaze. "I'm sorry." And now she did look surprised--if only momentarily before schooling her features again.

"Kate and I have been too harsh on you these past few years and you didn't deserve it. You've been taking care of Andy far better than Kate and I would have probably been able to in this situation--even if it's just a question of money and influence--"

Miranda's lips pinched even more and he saw her inhale. He was quick to rectify his words, "Which I-I know is not." And he did, he realized. He did know. Miranda had something to offer to his daughter that he and his wife simply could not, and it went far beyond power and resources. "So thank you for that."

There. He'd said it. He'd faced the dragon and, at the end of the day, it hadn't been that scary. He might never be entirely comfortable with the fact that his only child was in a relationship with a woman twice her age, notorious for her frightening demeanor and failed relationships, but he no longer had cause for concern. She was good enough and Andy was safe. It was something.

It felt like an eternity before Miranda calmly nodded and said, "Apology accepted."

It wasn't exactly a heart-to-heart, and they'd most likely never have one of those, but he'd said his piece and for a split second, he thought he saw the corners of Miranda's lips twitch upward.


	3. KATE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nobody really seems to be reading this story, but anyway, here's the last chapter.

Kate turned in her chair when she heard the door open and met piercing, blue eyes. She'd always thought they looked so cold; now they looked tired. Miranda's entire face wasn't as sharp as usual and her posture was less stiff and regal; just that teeny-tiny bit more hunched over after what must have been a pretty long day, seeing as this was her second hospital visit while juggling work and who knew what else with it. She was still wearing the same outfit she'd worn earlier.

"Where's Richard?" were her first words to Kate upon closing the door behind her and approaching the bed, which was when Kate noticed that she was also holding a _Starbucks_ tray with two cups.

"Back at the hotel," she answered, marking the page in her book and closing it on her lap. "I sent him to get some sleep."

Nodding mutely, Miranda reached for one of the cups and, to Kate's utter astonishment, handed it over. Wide-eyed and struck dumb, she took it in her hand and managed to mumble a weak "Thank you."

Miranda, of course, didn't offer a response or even so much as acknowledged her words, but she did take a sip of her own coffee as she rounded the bed to the other side and sat down, so Kate did the same. It was fantastic, albeit a little too hot.

"When did she fall asleep?" Miranda finally spoke up, setting her bag on the bedside table. Her eyes darted to the slumbering form on the bed before taking another sip, and Kate noted that she still hadn't met her gaze.

"About an hour ago," she answered nevertheless.

"And how was she?"

"She was feeling a little better. The nurse gave her something for the nausea after you left and later she ate a little."

Miranda simply nodded, said, "Good," and pulled her phone out of her bag. Kate figured that small talk time was over and reopened her book.

Concentrating proved to be harder than expected with Miranda Priestly sitting a mere three feet away, an unconscious Andy between them. It was the first time, Kate realized, that the three of them had been together in the same room without Andy serving as a buffer, and something about her unconscious state and the silence broken only by the hustle and bustle outside felt eerily uncomfortable. The tension in the air was so palpable she could almost taste it.

She didn't like Miranda--that was the truth. She never had, since Andy had gotten the job she'd explained to her "a million girls would kill for" and been treated like dirt by that woman. Simply put, Kate hadn't been convinced for a second that she was good enough for her daughter, that Andy couldn't do better.

That wasn't to say she hadn't learned to live with it. She had no choice; not if she wanted to maintain a good relationship with her daughter, and she would never let someone like Miranda Priestly be the cause for the disruption of a life-long bond.

So, she'd accepted Miranda into the family--reluctantly and sparingly, but accepted her nonetheless. That meant holidays spent together--either in New York or back home; it meant seeing Miranda every time she wanted to see her daughter, and it meant enduring polite conversation and being on their best behavior for the sake of keeping things peaceful. Not the family life she'd imagined for herself--certainly not the life she'd imagined for her daughter--but after five years, everyone had pretty much gotten the hang of it.

Now, though... this wasn't something she'd gotten the hang of, not something she'd ever practiced or even predicted she'd have to. After all, who could have?

Her daughter had always been very independent, very headstrong. Kate remembered how she'd refused to let her and Richard teach her to ride the bicycle she'd gotten for her ninth birthday; deciding, instead, to learn on her own through trial and error. The cold terror that had washed over Kate when Andy had walked through the kitchen door with scraped knees and elbow had been wiped away at the dazzling smile on the face of that little girl who had refused to give in and, instead, pushed and pushed herself until she'd perfected the art of riding.

Thinking back on that day, Kate wondered if that was the moment she'd learned that her daughter would set to accomplish anything she put her mind to regardless of the obstacles in the way and everyone else's opinions.

The realization had scared her--the notion that, one day, her hold on her child would weaken and she wouldn't be able to protect her from the big, scary world. But always remembering that satisfied, euphoric smile, she'd also vowed to support Andy in whatever she decided to do.

So she'd fought with her husband, behind closed doors, to stop nagging her about law school when Andy had announced that journalism was her passion. And when she'd come home and gushed about her plans to move to New York, of all places, and live with her boyfriend, Kate--although apprehensive and feeling like an internal organ had been ripped out of her--had offered to help with the rent. She'd read every e-mail complaining about life as a lowly assistant attentively and neatly filed every  _New York Mirror_ clipping with the name  _Andrea Sachs_ on it in a scrap book.

And, well, okay, when Andy had called one day and confided in her about this person she'd started seeing--who just happened to be the boss who had terrorized her day and night mere months before--that was when Kate had drawn the line. She and Richard had been less than supportive about that development--and righteously so, she believed--and Andy, predictably, had refused to give in.

That had been a difficult few months, but even through her frustration and concern, Kate had known that her stubborn daughter would not let anyone but herself dictate the rules, and though a small, mean part of her had never stopped waiting for the opportunity to say, "I told you so," some time in the last five years, she'd recognized that if she was waiting for that nine-year-old kid to come home with scraped limbs, she'd be waiting a long time.

Of course, nothing could have prepared her for the day a pick-up truck would crash into Andy and send her into an operating room. Nothing could have prepared her for the sight awaiting her when she'd barged into the room to find Andy bruised and hurting and only forcing herself to smile.

The same cold terror from years before had returned in a heartbeat. The realization that she hadn't been able to protect her baby from the big, scary world had almost been enough to paralyze her, and she wondered if the day would ever come when her heart wouldn't stop with dread and worry for her child.

Looking over at Andy's pale, bandaged face, she doubted that day would ever arrive for as long as she lived. Nine-years-old, thirty-years-old, or fifty-years-old; Andy would always be her baby and Kate would always fill up with anxiety over the changes in her life. But she would never stop loving and cheering her on.

A knock on the door snapped her from her silent thoughts to realize that she'd been reading the same sentence over and over and absorbing nothing. Closing her book again, she turned around just as the door opened to reveal a young girl in what were, no doubt, designer clothes and a large, white book in her hand. She opened her mouth to speak, only to be cut short by a clipped voice from the other side of the bed, "Bring me the Book."

Hurrying over on impossibly high heels that clacked loudly on the floor and echoed off the walls of the quiet room, the girl approached Miranda and handed the item over from a safe distance. Kate almost laughed at the "big, intimidating boss" show she was putting on. Wasn't it time to retire that act? Was there anyone left in that magazine of hers not already scared of her?

"That's all," she muttered without so much as a glance at the girl and opened the book.

Kate rolled her eyes. "Hello," she said with a smile and ignored the look Miranda shot at her. "Are you Miranda's assistant?"

"Um..." The girl looked between the two of them and, despite what was slowly morphing into a murderous glare on Miranda's face, turned more fully in Kate's direction and stuttered, "Y-yes, ma'am. Jennifer."

Now it was Miranda's turn to roll her eyes and fix them back on the pages before her. Kate's smile widened. "It's lovely to meet you. I'm Kate, Andy's mother," she said, gesturing at the body on the bed.

"Oh!" Jennifer said, then grimaced and lowered her voice. "Oh, of course. It's so nice to meet you. Andy is such a great--"

"I wasn't aware I was paying you to stand around and chat," Miranda drawled nonchalantly. Her eyes were still glued to the book, but her tone was dripping with disdain and Jennifer immediately paled and scurried away.

Sighing, Kate leaned back in her chair and waited for the sound of the door closing to say, "You don't have to be so mean."

Not looking up, Miranda murmured, "That was far from me being mean." She flipped a page.

Well, after experiencing her for five years, Kate had to agree. But it had also been far from nice. "Did you treat Andy like that when she worked for you?"

"Worse," Miranda answered without missing a beat and flipped another page. And despite herself, Kate chuckled and rolled her eyes again.

She thought of returning to her book, but found herself asking instead, "What's this thing you're working on?"

"The Book," Miranda answered absentmindedly, as though that explained everything. Kate could identify the object very well on her own, thank you.

As if reading her mind, Miranda sighed deeply--a characteristic act Kate recognized well as her trying to be patient and poilte so as to not harm the already fragile relationship they had built--and actually looked her in the eye and elaborated, "It's a mock-up of the magazine." Looking back down as if she couldn't do that soon enough, she continued, "My assistant brings it to me every night to review and make changes."

"Wow." Kate nodded. "So you really have final say in everything that goes in it."

"Which is why I'm the editor-in-chief," Miranda replied, sounding just a little mocking and a lot bored.

Well. Kate could take a hint. She went back to her own book.

She wasn't sure when she'd fallen asleep, but the next time she regained consciousness, there was murmuring in the room. Through the sleep-induced fog in her mind, she couldn't make out what the hushed voices were saying until she heard, "Not with your mother right here."

"She's asleep," her daughter's voice replied. Huh. So she was now awake. And she and Miranda were talking about Kate--or at least she assumed they were. She kept her eyes closed. She wasn't eavesdropping, she told herself; just waking up at her own pace.

"Regardless," Miranda said. "I will not do this while she's here and I refuse to speak that way in public altogether."

"I'm not asking you to give me any... graphic details," Andy argued, though her tone was sweet and... cheeky. "Just tell me you'll take good care of me when I'm out of here and feeling better."

There was a long silence following her words and Kate forced her eyes to remain closed instead of checking if Miranda was still there. The suggestive hint to her daughter's tone clued her in to the fact that perhaps "taking care" of her, in the context of this discussion, didn't refer to fetching her pills and water, and Kate almost wished that Miranda _had_ left. For once, she wholeheartedly agreed with Miranda. Please _don't do this while I'm here,_  she silently begged.

One thing was for certain, though, and that was she absolutely shouldn't open her eyes and make this moment even more uncomfortable. Maybe she could will herself into falling back to sleep and missing the rest of the conversation.

She really tried when Miranda finally spoke again, "I will take _very_ good care of you, Andrea." Her tone was even more suggestive and Kate decided instantly that this was in the top five worst moments of her life--somewhere after Andy getting hit by a pick-up truck, of course.

When she heard Miranda's voice again, it was thankfully normal and lacking any hint of something Kate wouldn't want to hear. "I should go."

"Already?" Andy asked, sounding disappointed.

"I'm keeping you awake. You need the rest."

"Yeah," she conceded with a sigh. "You do, too. You look like shit."

Kate nearly choked on her own breath, struggling to keep her eyes closed and stay still. She had never heard Andy speak _that_ way to Miranda--never heard anybody speak that way to her. She didn't think it was possible, since surely the punishment would be nothing short of a death sentence. Just earlier, Miranda had nearly eviscerated her poor assistant with her eyes alone only for being a decent person and introducing herself to Kate, but now--

"Thank you very much," she replied sarcasticly, but incredibly, her tone was light and playful.

"I bet I look even worse, don't I?" Andy said and, even with her eyes closed, Kate could summon back the image of her bandaged head, bruises, and lifeless eyes. It brought her physical pain, it really did, and if Miranda so much as made one cruel, condescending remark about her not looking like one of her robotic models--

"You look beautiful," she said gently, her voice even softer than usual, and Kate's breath caught in her throat. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard the sound of a kiss. "I'll be back tomorrow. Do you want me to bring you anything?"

"Maybe a book?" Andy said. "The one Caroline got me for my birthday? I never had a chance to get around to reading it. Now might be the perfect timing; I'm starting to get a little bored here."

"Alright. What about something to wear?"

"Hmm, new pajamas would be nice. I think this shirt could use washing."

"Pajamas and book," Miranda repeated. "Anything else?"

"Another kiss," Andy said, and even without looking, Kate could hear the smile in her voice. Even though she didn't hear anything this time, she knew exactly what was happening next to her.

"Stay here until I fall asleep?" Andy asked hopefully, and although Kate didn't hear a response, she also didn't hear footsteps. Instead, Miranda's chair creaked against the floor and then there was silence again and Kate, once more, tried to lull herself to sleep to the sound of her daughter's breathing.

It didn't work, and when the breathing had finally evened out, coming out slower and deeper, she heard the chair again and some shuffling. And then silence and, for some reason, she felt as though she was being watched. Holding her breath, she forced her body to stay still and not betray her wakefulness and then, coming out so quietly she barely caught it, she heard, "I love you."

Her breath left her nostrils at once and then there was the sound of heels on the floor, and before she could think better of it, she opened her eyes and murmured, "I was wrong."

She looked up as the footsteps halted and, for the first time ever, saw Miranda Priestly startle. The transformation from the deer-caught-in-the-headlights look to her usual, blank gaze was fairly quick, but Kate had seen the surprise on her face and got some satisfaction from it, even if it hadn't been her intention. Probably.

"I didn't see it before," she continued when Miranda turned to her, waiting for more. Straightening against the hard back of her chair, she kept her voice quiet as to not wake Andy again. "I mean, I knew she loved you, and that you loved her. In my head, I knew." She tapped her temple. "But I couldn't see it: you two, together. Being a real couple like me and Richard. Having a real life together and not just some... some urge or thrill you had to act on.

"I see it now," she said and nodded solemnly. "She loves you, very much. And I see now that you love her, too."

"I never gave you reason to doubt that," Miranda said in a tight voice, sounding like she was forcing the words out.

"No. You didn't," she agreed. This was shaping up to be the most civil and honest conversation they had ever had. "But I did, anyway."

Miranda didn't answer. But she also didn't move. Maybe she just didn't know what to say. Kate wasn't sure what to add either. But then, for the sake of honesty, she said, "I wanted to take Andy home with us, back to Cincinnati. Have her continue her recovery there."

Miranda's eyes widened, but not in surprise this time. It was clear rage written all over her face and she took a step closer, hissing, "She's not going anywhere."

"I know. I thought that it would be better for her to be home--"

"She is home," Miranda interrupted her, looking angrier by the second. Oh, boy, this wasn't what Kate had been going for.

"Miranda, I know," she emphasized, looking her straight in the eye. "I'm trying to say that I was wrong. Again." She gave a small, mirthless chuckle and Miranda's features began to smooth out, but she still looked incredibly confused.

"I thought Cincinnati was still her home, but that's not the case anymore. I've been too stubborn to see that it hasn't been the case for a long time, but what can I say? I'm her mother--I couldn't let go. Richard and I, we'll always be her parents and she'll always have a place with us, but her home is here now. With you."

Slowly, the lines between Miranda's eyebrows disappeared, her shoulders lost their tension, and she licked her lips, gazing at the bed with an unwontedly tender look in her eyes, the like of which Kate had never seen before. Kate kept her eyes on her. "She's happy with you. And even after this..." she said softly and exhaled. "You're good for her. It took me a while, but I can see it now."

Reaching her hand out, Kate could tell that Miranda wanted to touch Andy, but instead it landed on the board at the foot of the bed, fingers gripping the edge of it tightly. Her eyes didn't leave Andy's bruised but peaceful face as she opened her mouth and, in a voice so soft Kate had to strain to hear, said, "She's good for me, too."

And looking up at her face, now relaxed and serene, Kate didn't need any proof or any convincing. She knew. She saw it now.


End file.
